Spice and Wolf - Volume 13 - Chapter 4.1

ONE

The world turns on happenstance. I doubt many would raise any complaint with such a statement. I myself owe my continued existence entirely to lucky fate.

I know not exactly how many days or months have passed since I was given life. I can say only that it has not been a short amount of time.

More than once I have felt myself on the brink of surrender, wondering whether this was the end of my life, only to be saved by a coincidence I would’ve had no right to expect.

There is another thing I must say—and that is in the whole of my life, I have served only two masters.

My first master was a taciturn man, calm as a mountain, the very image of the concept of “master.” He trained me very strictly from the day my eyes came open, and it was he who gave me many skills I’ll doubtless rely upon until the day I die. While ours was a simple and quiet life, when I think upon those happy memories now, my chest tightens. I was fulfilled, wanted for nothing, and I quite naively believed those days could last forever.

But owing to something I can only conceive of as simple fate, it all vanished like a popping bubble on the water.

Go out into the wilderness, and you will find not only bears and wolves, but also men armed with iron weapons deadlier than any tooth or claw. Though my master and I had been very careful, sudden wind and rain had driven us to make camp where we shouldn’t have.

Yet make camp we did. There was nothing inevitable about those men finding us there, and for both our camping and their attack, I find myself unable to give any explanation other than sheer coincidence. I could only think that our encounter with them that night was a testament to the mysterious power of happenstance.

In any case, I fought my hardest. I fought with all my might to the brink of death.

I know for certain that I unhesitatingly felt that the word warrior was made for me, and perhaps it would be most accurate to say that a crack appeared in my pride that day.

We faced an overwhelming disadvantage; my master fell, and I was wounded.

I can still remember all too clearly my master’s face in the driving storm, smeared with blood, muck, and rain, as he offered to me the staff that had been my very life.

A servant must protect his master’s honor as much as his life.

I took my master’s staff, and I ran. Desperately I ran.

In that moment, the wind, rain, and gloom of the night became my allies. I ran mindlessly, and when I came to myself, dawn was breaking.

Heedless of my own wounds, I had exhausted myself beyond the ability to take another step and fell against a large boulder, curling up right there.

The night’s wind and rain vanished like they had never been there, and I will never forget the warmth that came with the sun as it rose over the horizon. Though it pains me to say so, with that warmth came the thought that here was the place where I would die.

Had I protected my master’s honor, or had I failed?

Before the staff that lay in front of me, the staff that had surely been a keepsake of his, I asked this of myself.

I decided that when I reached heaven, I would ask my master. That was my sole comfort as I closed my eyes, certain that I would never again open them.

Thus it was that when someone began to move me and I opened my eyes to see, I was sure that whatever I saw there would be heaven itself.

But what greeted me was not a sight that befit heaven, I was certain.

It was a girl, her face dirty, her body clothed in rags—an old tree by the side of the road would’ve been more elegant than she. She was shaking me with her chapped hands—not to warm them up, but to wake me.

Sometimes when my master would get far enough into his cups to loosen his tongue, he would call me a knight. And though he only occasionally told me the tales of true knights, I nonetheless felt that the true spirit of a knight entered my heart.

And thus was I helplessly party to a miracle.

Even though she herself was near collapse, the girl desperately cried for me to stand, to return from the edge of death. And if I had not stood there, I could never again have been called a knight.

I swallowed back my wounds, my exhaustion, and I stood.

I will never forget the pride I felt in that moment.

Despite being on the verge of death herself, she was possessed of such a kind heart that when she saw me stand, she smiled a smile of relief. Beset by cold and hunger, she could still care for another and could still smile. And in that moment, I knew that I had found my new master.

Though both she and I then collapsed on that spot, we did not leave each other’s side. It must have been fate. After sleeping for a time, it was hunger that awoke us, and our eyes opened in the same moment.

Yes, it was most certainly a fated encounter.

I had gained a new master—a new master that despite being a bit unsteady was possessed of incomparable benevolence, and one whose worthiness of my utmost service was beyond question. Her name was Norah, and she was a girl young enough to still retain a certain childish innocence.

My humble, unworthy self’s name is Enek. Thanks to my name being carved on the staff I presented to my new master, I was able to avoid the misfortune of changing my name. It seems that great turns of fate summon smaller ones.

Though we cannot speak to each other, our bond is all the stronger for that. I wonder if my human master would be angry at me, a mere dog, for thinking so. While she may be an excellent person in spite of herself, she would face no small danger without me at her side, so I shall forgive her that much.

If you would know why, you have but to look.

Without me at her side, peaceful sleep is difficult for her. While she may be a weak master, ours is a beautiful relationship, one in which each supports the other. Having determined as much, I sleep under the same blanket as my master. It’s warmer for both of us that way.

The season is winter.

Surely none can question such a decision.

Morning comes early in winter. Not because the sun rises earlier, of course, but rather because the cold makes it impossible to remain asleep.

We both awoke before dawn, looked up at the dark sky, and yawned great yawns. My master was the only one to subsequently sneeze, while I regarded her clumsiness with a certain forbearance.

“My nose was just itchy…,” she gave as her excuse upon noticing my gaze. “Still.”

Though she had held me close underneath the blanket, stubbornly unwilling to face the winter chill, my master had summoned her spirits and thrown it off. She continued speaking as she looked up at the few stars that still shone in the sky.

“I’m still not used to not hearing the sheep bleating when I wake up.”

Indeed. I myself felt quite the same way.

“The shepherd’s life was hard, but…now that I don’t have to do it anymore, I do feel a bit lonely.”

The shepherd’s life, with its constant tending of helpless sheep, leading them to pastures where they can eat their fill of grass, was an exhausting one. Left alone, the sheep would wander, and no matter how they were scolded, they never remembered the way. All the powerless things did was baa and baa, totally oblivious to the relationship between master and servant—how could the work of herding them be anything but arduous?

While my master and I made our living doing such work, nothing lasts forever, and eventually we quit those labors, which we’d toiled at for so long. For my part, it was good to no longer begin every day with seeing my master’s worried profile as she surveyed the flock to make sure none had gone missing during the night.

And yet, the loss of the carefree calls of the sheep did not sit well.

It had been two weeks since my master and I began our travels—well past time for us to be over our lingering attachments. But no matter how firmly I might have believed that, as I looked up at my master’s distracted face, I found myself unable to resist putting my nose to her cheek and nuzzling her.

I did not want to see her looking so delicate.

“Mm…sorry. I’m fine.” My master held my face in both hands and smiled.

While I had half wished for it, I will never forget my master’s face when she removed the bell that is the symbol of the shepherd from atop her staff.

I gave a bark, and my breath was white.

My master smiled self-consciously and regained her natural strength of spirit. “Well, shall we break our fast, then? Just a bit—I splurged a bit in the last town,” she said, and I couldn’t help but wince a little at the childish way she rummaged around in a burlap sack to produce some bread.

Just because we had a bit of room in our travel budget was no cause for needless luxury, I thought, looking steadily at my master. Noticing my gaze, she giggled for some reason. “Come, Enek. Don’t be naughty.”

She misunderstood me. My tail was not wagging because of the contents of the sack or any such frivolous reason, but rather because of my pleasure at her seemingly regaining her strength…

“But look how white the bread is!” My master split the loaf in two and showed me the interior.

And then the scent of the earth-nurtured wheat reached my nose.

I wish to hold my canine nature up as a point of pride, and as such I did not try to fight my instincts.

Around the time we were finishing our short meal, the sky began to pale.

The stars, shining coldly in the sky like tiny fragments of ice, began to melt away, and with each step we took, we could see farther and farther.

That said, it was not as though it was much warmer, and our breath lingered behind us in a long ribbon, the land as cold as always.

“It’s easier not having the sheep around, but it would be nice to stay somewhere with a roof soon.” My master walked along with a strength you’d never imagine she possessed just by looking at her, planting her now bell-less staff in the ground as she went. “But I think we’ll be there today or maybe tomorrow,” she said, opening up a map drawn on a sheepskin parchment.

While they were the tools of her job, my master would cry when her sheep were injured, scold them when they did something dangerous, and feel lonely when she was away from them. In a way, she was like their mother. Given that, I would’ve thought that she would avoid using a sheepskin map, but strangely, that seemed not to be the case.

There were still a few things I didn’t understand about humans.

“Anyway, what do you think about the town rumors, Enek?” my master asked as she gazed at the map. She didn’t look up, perhaps from a faint sense of unease.

I served my master, and it was my fate to walk whichever path she chose. If that path involved a certain amount of danger, then it fell to me to hearten her.

Having determined that, I moved my gaze from my master to the path ahead, to indicate that if she’d made her decision, there was nothing to do but proceed.

“You’re right. After all, they say employers pay only for danger or toil.”

I gave a bark in response.

My master had made a name for herself as a shepherdess, but circumstances had forced her to retire. Fortunately, she had been left with plenty of money—enough for her to make her own dream a reality. She had many times told me of her desire to become a seamstress. I certainly didn’t mind her sharing her dreams with me, although I did not much like the way she spoke of them as things that could never happen.

Given that, while I would do my utmost to help her achieve her dream now that it seemed possible, I could not do so as happily as I might have—because, as she’d said, to make one’s dream come true, one had to be prepared for a certain amount of danger.

“They say half the people in town have died from illness.”

If she’s afraid, then we ought to turn back, was my foolish thought.

But my master had a reason for wanting to risk such danger. During our travels, she’d heard tell of a village stricken with sickness. The population had declined, and with it the available workers, so for the town to recover there was a need for labor.

If true, then it would be easy for someone like my master, who had neither connections nor experience, to find work.

But the situation would not last long. Once word began to spread that the illness had run its course, people from all around would come seeking work—which meant that the opportunity had to be seized now.

It was a brave merchant who’d told my master of this, one who, even amid all the talk of people taking pains to avoid the town, had gone there to do business. According to him, he’d even go to the depths of hell, so long as there was someone there to trade with. Admirable of him.

According to him, the sickness that plagued the town of Kuskov was beginning to lift, and soon there would be little to worry about—and moreover, that it was only a matter of time before word of this began to spread throughout the region.

Time was of the essence, my master said, and no sooner had she heard the merchant’s tale than we set out. Earlier that very same day, my master had had her wish to become a seamstress flatly turned down, so that was probably another reason for her haste.

“Still, for half the town to have died, I wonder if the Church’s prayers had no effect…,” said my master vaguely as she folded up the map.

While she was employed as a shepherdess, my master was treated unbelievably poorly by the Church. Perhaps envious of her skill, they branded her a witch. In the face of such treatment, she maintained a pleasant heart, but it’s also true that it was a terrible burden on her. And it was perhaps a source of pride for me to serve under one who could endure such treatment without merrily taking her revenge.

Still, I can’t help but feel some irritation at my master’s excessive honesty, which made her reluctant to take even the mildest revenge, and because of which she even now continues to acknowledge the Church’s authority.

So I simply looked ahead without replying.

Regardless of whether or not she knew what I was thinking, my master is not the most eloquent of humans at the best of times, so we continued down the road for a while in silence after that. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and as we warmed up, our pace quickened until we were traveling rather more quickly than the average traveler. Progress was good, and according to the map my master was consulting, we were approaching the town.

Being an animal, more or less, I could sleep outside for as many days in a row as necessary, but my master, being human, was not so equipped. We would evidently be arriving in the evening of the next day, and rest would be the first priority—we could figure out the particulars of the plague later.

My master was no delicate garden flower, but even the heartiest wildflower would wither if exposed to the cold wind for long enough. And she didn’t have enough meat on her bones besides.

It seems to me that if humans don’t have fur like animals, the least they could do is try to be a little more substantial. As it is, she’d hardly have cause to complain if someone mistook her for an underfed young man.

Just as I was thinking this—

“Enek!”

My tail fur stiffened at the calling of my name, but not because I’d been thinking about my master.

When one enjoys such a close working relationship as my master and I have, many meanings can be conveyed with but a single call of a name, depending on how it’s done.

This particular call had a nostalgic echo to it, one that set my blood rushing.

My master raised her staff and pointed ahead.

“—!” I didn’t so much as think before I dashed away at such speed that I could barely hear her next call. My destination was the crest of the hill she’d pointed to.

There were some stray, raggedy-looking sheep there, grazing lazily away.

My claws bit into the earth, and the only sound I could hear was the wind rushing in my ears.

The idle sheep finally seemed to take notice of me, and panicked, they tried to run. But I was not one to let these sluggish creatures escape.

I ran and jumped with enough force to scoop divots of grass free, coming around in front of the sheep and barking a great bark.

The sheep, pushed to the limits of confusion, merely stamped their feet, and then they were mine to instruct as I pleased. To inform them of that fact, I lifted my head skyward and loosed a howl.

Of course, I knew that this was only a moment’s passing fancy, and indeed at the base of the hill, my master was walking toward me, laughing. But how could I resist the opportunity to howl a proud, gallant howl?

While I felt a bit sorry for the cowed, frightened sheep, they were fortunate that I was not a ravenous wolf. When my master waved her staff, I released them and went to her side.

When she scratched me behind the ears as though to say, Well done, it was all the reward I would ever need.

“Sorry for startling you,” said my master to the sheep. Being wild sheep, they had a certain amount of their own pride, which they voiced with high bleats before running off. Stray sheep were not rare near towns. While only God knew how long they might live, that was just as true for me.

I considered this as my master watched the fleeing sheep through narrowed eyes.

She became aware of my gaze and smiled bashfully, her cheeks slightly flushed from her run. “I do feel a bit badly for the sheep, but that was fun.”

My master had been rather bad herself.

That evening we made camp moderately removed from the road in the space between two hills. The traveling conditions hadn’t been so bad, but we had yet to encounter a single other traveler—perhaps thanks to the rumors of a plague killing half the town’s population. Given the circumstances, we probably could have safely made camp at the roadside, but my master is a very careful person.

Nonetheless, she found herself stunned into silence when a sparrow she was feeding scraps of bread to was taken by a hawk that swooped down from the sky and carried it off. It wasn’t the first time this sort of thing had happened, but my master never learns.

And when she came to her senses, she took her frustration out on me, as she always does.

I may be a knight, but there was little I could do about literally airborne attacks.

But I obediently let my ears and tail droop, and waited for my master’s anger to pass.

It was not long after that the sun set and we went to sleep. Without a fire, the only way to keep warm was to huddle together, and while it was less stressful not to have sheep to mind, it was unavoidable that we would drop our guard. I try to be mindful of our surroundings as I go to sleep, but it is hard to escape from that warmth. I no longer hesitated much to tuck my face back under the blanket when my master shifted, such that it was exposed to the cold. This made me little better than a house dog, I thought in my half-asleep state, but my body busied itself nestling back under my master’s arm.

It was a difficult impulse to resist.

Faced with choosing between my honor as a knight and the pleasant warmth of my master’s embrace, while I’m not certain whether I growled at the choice, I definitely agonized over it.

Which is why I thought, for a moment, that what I sensed might have been my imagination.

But immediately after realizing that it was not my imagination, I raised my head and pricked up my ears. Yet around my neck was not only the blanket but also my master’s arms, so squirming out to see was quite difficult.

She was still asleep, and as I struggled to get out, she mumbled something and tightened her grasp, but finally I wriggled free and got my head out from under the blanket.

It was then that I knew for certain—this was the sound of fighting!

“Mm…Enek?”

Since we’d been released from our duties as a shepherd, I hadn’t been the only one to fall victim to the charms of uninterrupted sleep, but that was then. She soon saw from my state that what I had sensed was quite out of the ordinary, and her eyes went immediately wide as she scanned the area.

“A wolf?” My master had lived near a wood where wolves frequently appeared. She wasn’t afraid, though—her voice carried with it her readiness to face them should they come. “No, not wolves…”

My master lowered her ear to the ground. She was about as good as I was at listening to the sound and discerning numbers and directions.

Soon concluding that there were no wolves, she stood and looked around. All the while my ears took in the sounds of fighting. I stared in the direction the sounds came from, trying to warn my master of what I heard.

Shouts and the occasional clash of iron. It was a fight between warriors.

“Bandits?”

Humans fear their own kind more than any wolf or wild animal—one of the world’s great ironies. My master drew closer to me, and listened carefully. She seemed to realize by my lack of growl that the danger was not moving toward us.

My master quickly gathered up our things and slowly stood.

“…”

She indicated forward with her staff.

I began to walk, then trot toward the sound.

The moon was faintly and occasionally visible through patches in the clouds, and I cannot say that visibility was good. I was well aware that my form was easily concealed in the gloom, but for that reason I looked back several times to make sure my master had not lost sight of me.

Finally, I crested the hill and was able to command a complete view. I turned my gaze to my master; she was lagging behind me, her body low, and her eyes widened in surprise.

Looking down from the top of the hill, it was easy to see what was happening, despite the considerable distance.

Flames rose from an inn nestled up against the road. It didn’t take ears as keen as mine to hear the cries coming from it.

The inn was being attacked by bandits.

“Wh-what’ll we do?” my master murmured. I could hardly blame her. Given her personality, she was no doubt wondering whether to try to help—but from here, it was impossible to tell how many bandits there were or how they were armed.

My master was a kind person to the end, but that could make things difficult sometimes. I prepared my body at least to defend her life.

A shower of sparks flew up; perhaps the roof of one of the smaller buildings had collapsed.

“Ah—!”

A person came running out of the front door of the main building, which the tongues of flame had yet to reach. I couldn’t make out the face owing to the darkness and the smoke, but going by the person’s clothes, they seemed to be a traveler on their pilgrimage.

I could also see the person wobble unsteadily, either from terror or injury.

The person staggered toward the road, and then another came after the pilgrim. This one had a sword in hand and was clearly on the side of the attackers.

The difference in speed was like that of an ox and a horse. The pilgrim would be caught very quickly, I was sure.

But then another figure came out of the inn’s entrance, jumping at the attacker in the time it took him to turn around.

Next, I heard something very clearly, which meant that it was probably at least faintly audible to my master as well. “Run, please!” was the cry.

“Enek!”

I have no doubt her words were half out of sheer instinct. But I am a proud knight, a servant of my master. At her order and her staff, I charged.

At the end of my vision I saw the attacker throw off his assailant and plunge his sword at the fallen man, then pull it free.

But in his excitement, the attacker’s steps were unsteady as though he was drunk. He was no match for me.

The grass deadened the sound of my footfalls, and the sound of the burning stables was my ally as well.

Completely unaware of me, the attacker walked toward the pilgrim, who was still trying to crawl away. The pilgrim seemed to hit upon some idea and began to pray, looking up to the heavens.

From behind him his attacker approached, smiling a cruel smile and raising his sword. But the very instant he prepared to strike his defenseless opponent from behind with that blade, he surely saw a flicker of black streak across the corner of his vision.

Surely he saw.

And in the next moment, my fangs sank into the wrist of his right arm, sending his sword flying away. My jaws can tear through the thickly meated rear leg of a sheep.

I felt his bones crack in my jaw and released my grip.

The man looked as though he’d seen a demon in the night. He fell back, and I ripped mercilessly into his right calf.

“Help! Heeelp!”

Then by the time I realized I’d been careless, it was too late. When I looked up, there was another man with a sword at the entrance to the inn.

I looked around and saw my master running in my direction. The only way to settle this would be to wipe out the bandits entirely.

“Hey, what happened?” Fortunately, the man in the doorway didn’t seem to realize what was going on. I let go of the one in front of me and leaped over him, bolting straight ahead.

At the end of my sight, I found a face filled with shock and fear.

He dropped a heavy-looking sack, probably filled with loot from the inn, and readied his sword. I bared my fangs at him. Given the darkness, I’m sure I looked like a wolf to him and his comrades. That wasn’t my intention, but I was perfectly happy to use it.

He used his sword not as a weapon, but as a shield, thrusting it feebly at me. I leaped at him, and I’d only begun to bite his face when he’d already fainted. The inside of the inn was a terrible mess, and there were three people on the floor who were wearing the same clothes as the pilgrim who’d tried to escape.

Then, I noticed a presence and looked to see another person coming down the stairs. From his dress, I could tell that he was another bandit, who’d come down to see what the commotion was. He noticed me, too, and our eyes met.

But then he saw the blood dripping from my snout, gave a shriek, and fled back up the stairs. However, I have an advantage when attacking from below. Three steps brought me to the base of the stairs, and two more were all it took for me to close the distance and put my jaws around the man’s foot. He stumbled at the top of the stairs, kicking wildly and screaming an unearthly howl. I couldn’t help but let go of his foot.

That was fortunate, though, because the man then fell right down the stairs. His right leg and left arm were bent in strange directions, but he seemed to be alive.

I looked down at the man from the upper landing and noticed that the inside of the inn had fallen silent. My ears told me that the other building was still burning, and my nose told me that it would not be long before this building burned as well. I was worried that there were more bandits, but I was more concerned with my master’s safety than I was in such certainty. I ran down the stairs but stopped at the inn’s exit.

Someone was just entering—it was the human who’d first caught sight of me. He was a bearded man, clad in cumbersome-looking long-sleeved robes, and his right side was soaked in blood. He was pale, too, but surely not just because of the wound.

“Ooh…Ugh…What calamity has happened here…”

The man cast his eyes over the terrible state of the inn and fell to his knees. They were wearing the same sort of clothing as he was, so perhaps the three figures on the floor had been his comrades.

I slipped past him, and upon coming outside, I saw my master, clasping her staff uncertainly. The moment she saw me, she came running and embraced me.

“I’m so glad you’re safe!”

It would have been strange for her to be so concerned with my safety given that she was the one who’d set me upon the bandits, but it was just my master’s personality to be this way. I looked past her and saw that the man who’d been stabbed with a sword already had a cloth covering him.

“Is that all the bandits?” my master asked, releasing me once she’d held me close and reassured herself.

With no way to answer, I merely barked once. But she got her response from the man who’d staggered into the inn moments earlier. “There were three bandits in all…”

“So there’s one more?” asked my master, but the man shook his head.

Counting the one who’d fallen down the stairs, that made three. Would that my master could’ve seen my incredibly display of bravery, I thought, looking up at her.

“Oh God, we thank thee for this small blessing…,” the man had the nerve to say.

It was I who brought him such good fortune, I and my master!

If she hadn’t stroked my head, I’m quite certain I would’ve barked my irritation.

The bearded man’s name was Giuseppe Ozenstein. He was the bishop of a church three weeks’ walk west of here.

I felt some frustration at having saved someone so useless, but my master did not share my opinion. Despite all the suffering she’d endured at the hands of the Church, when this Giuseppe fellow introduced himself, she knelt and bowed her head.

Master, this is unseemly!

“Look up, please. You are verily an angel sent by God.”

If the bearded Giuseppe had treated my master forcefully, I was fully prepared to respond appropriately, but it did not seem that such force would be used. My fangs stayed hidden for the nonce.

Giuseppe seemed several times my master’s age and was deeply grateful to her.

“No, not at all…Anyway, it’s much more thanks to Enek than me.”

“Ah, quite right. So he’s called Enek, is he? Truly, I owe you my life.”

The wound in his side was surprisingly deep, and though she’d tried to stem the bleeding, it was not surprising that her skill was not up to the task. Giuseppe’s face was pale as paper, but his grateful smile to me was so clearly genuine that it felt good to see.

As a knight, it was my duty to accept such gratitude.

“Still, the test God has given me is terribly heavy…”

Save for a single young man, all of Guiseppe’s comrades were killed. And even the young man had a bad wound on his head and was unconscious. My master did the best she could to treat him, but only God knew whether he would recover.

“And the other people in the inn, were they…?” My master had bound the bandits I’d defeated and tied them to the fence that encircled the inn.

“No…this place was empty. We had come to borrow a stable and pass the night, but the bandits seemed to be waiting for that. But…oh, how terrible they were, these pagan men!”

“…You mean, their arrowhead amulets?”

“So you noticed, did you? That’s right. They’re descended from the sorcerers who still practice their dark arts in the eastern mountains. They were waiting for us to sleep. The three men they killed were mercenaries I’d hired as travel guards. They were quick and brave and tried to protect us, but were unequal to the task…”

Then I noticed something.

Two of the men who’d fallen near the building’s door, despite being dressed the same way the old man was, smelled distinctly like me—that is to say, men ready to fight.

“But I cannot abandon my journey here. I must…press on,” said Giuseppe firmly before a coughing fit stopped him.

I had a bad feeling about this.

I quivered, a quiet whimper in my throat, but my master seemed not to hear it. She made a sympathetic face, then extended her hand to Giuseppe. “What is your destination?” she asked.

Master! Never in all my life had I been so vexed by my inability to use human words. Were we not on our way to the town of Kuskov so that my master could make her dreams come true? And did not misfortune befall travelers constantly, laying them low on the roadside every day? Thus, it was folly to put the goals of others before one’s own goals—there would be no end of it!

Though I sat there obediently, I watched Giuseppe and my master alike very closely as such worries chased themselves through my mind.

Giuseppe coughed. “My apologies. My destination was…”

Once she heard it, there would be no way for her to resist helping. I felt as though I had to do something, anything, but I could not shut the man’s mouth.

Giuseppe quietly finished his statement. “…Kuskov.”

“Huh?”

My ears pricked up, and I looked at my master, who seemed likewise surprised.

“Are you familiar with it? It is a town beset by plague, without God’s teachings or guidance; a town suffering in darkness.”

“Y-yes. We were on our way there ourselves.”

“Oh!” Giuseppe’s face showed evidence of deep shock, and then, like all Church men do when praying to their God, he closed his eyes. I wagged my tail in amusement, for what Giuseppe said next was precisely what I had expected. “This must be God’s will…though it cannot but pain me to say so. Might I ask you to hear this one request of a servant of God?”

I looked first at Giuseppe’s face, then back to my master’s. She was looking at him very seriously, as though ready to be given some important mission.

Even if I could have used human words, it would have been impossible to stop her.

“Yes, anything.”

At these words, Giuseppe closed his eyes again and spoke. “Would you escort us to Kuskov?”

My master gave a firm nod and took Giuseppe’s hand.

A bit weary of my master’s excessive kindness, I sat down, facing the inn as it burned to the ground.

“I see. So you’re heading to Kuskov to become a crafter…”

“Yes. I got word about the town from traveling merchants.”

“Ah, I see. I should think it would require a great deal of courage to journey all the way to Kuskov…but please excuse my rudeness—you clearly posses a great measure of bravery and righteousness.”

Giuseppe was riding his horse. The young man was still unconscious and had been placed on the stout little mule they’d brought with them as a pack animal.

“No, in truth I’m terrified, but…it’s a dream I was sure I could never reach, so now that I have this chance…” My master spoke rather bashfully because it was the truth.

“Your dream, eh? It’s true one needs hopes and dreams in order to face danger. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Atop his horse, Giuseppe smiled kindly, and my master looked up at him with respect in her eyes.

I was not terribly amused by any of this.

“I, too, am making for Kuskov in service of a dream of sorts. When the plague came, all of God’s servants were called to heaven, and none remained to light candles anew. So we decided to come, to serve as lamps for those trembling in the darkness.”

“I see…”

“I began this journey ready to face any horror in that town, but I never thought the horrors would begin while my journey was not yet over.” He spoke not with sadness but rather exhaustion. A tired smile was on his face, which I found somehow reassuring.

I remembered that when this man had thought his life was at its end, he did not beg or plead for it, nor did he panic. He only looked to the heavens and prayed.

I could not forgive the Church, but I respected anyone so dedicated to their profession. On that count, this Giuseppe could not be such a bad human.

“As you can see, I am nothing more than a humble bishop, and I cannot give you anything of worth in return for your aid. But I would very much like to do what I can.”

“Oh no, you needn’t—” said my master hastily, but Giuseppe only gave an indulgently stubborn smile.

“I very nearly lost my life at the hands and blades of those men. You saved me, even as I was on my way to bring aid to those waiting in the darkness for God’s light. It is a thing heavy with import, and I hope you’ll at least allow me to repay the actions of your brave friend.”

“You mean…Enek?”

I, too, did not expect this, and I looked up to see an honest smile directed at me from Giuseppe, which took me still further by surprise. Being an animal, the only person I expected such smiles from was my master herself.

“God made this world and all things in it. Humans and all other things are the same in God’s eyes. Thus, I feel it only right to give names to the blades of grass, show kindness to horses and birds alike, and to properly honor those who show such noble bravery.”

I looked up at my master, and she looked down at me. Then both of us looked to Giuseppe, whereupon the wounded bishop smiled happily and continued on.

“When we arrive in Kuskov, I, Giuseppe Ozenstein, in the name of God, will confer upon the noble Enek the title of Knight of the Church.”

I had not the faintest notion of what that meant, but if I was being dubbed a knight, I had no cause to refuse.

I looked at my master, who seemed surprised and at a loss for words.

“And of course, I’d like to show you some appreciation, too,” said Giuseppe, as he looked abruptly down the road as though suddenly having realized something.

The moon was just then peeking out from between a gap in the clouds, and at the end of our gazes lay a town—Kuskov, our destination.

It seemed we wouldn’t have had to camp, nor would Giuseppe and his fellows have needed to stay in that inn, if we’d but pressed on just a bit farther.

The world is a strangely fated place.

When I looked up at the pained smile that Giuseppe and my master were sharing, I knew they were thinking the same thing.

The town of Kuskov was a sufficiently grand place to be surrounded by a stone wall. It was nothing to be compared with Ruvinheigen, of course, but still secure enough for it to be far from certain that they’d open their gates for midnight visitors.

But that was soon revealed for the groundless worry that it was.

When Giuseppe the bishop identified himself at the gates, the watchman’s haste was a thing to behold. It was as though he’d glimpsed his own salvation.

He hardly could’ve hurried more even if the town was being besieged by an enemy’s army, and as he made his great fuss, even before the door opened, my master—who wasn’t especially assertive at the best of times—quailed before the commotion that seemed to be brewing on the other side of it.

If the town was so desperate for the bishop’s visit, then there was no doubt they’d welcome his savior with the same enthusiasm.

My master’s face told eloquently of her worries. When there finally sounded a horn blast from inside the town, she seemed unable to endure it any further. She looked up at Giuseppe, who rubbed his face and cleared his throat atop his horse, attempting to hide his own wounded condition.

“E-er, if you please…”

“Yes, my child?”

“Er, that is, I have a favor to ask…”

Giuseppe’s face was that of a shepherd leading his flock. “What is that?” he asked. Men of the Church often hid their blackness beneath such expressions, but it seemed to encourage my master, who continued.

“Would you introduce us as merely your followers, please…?”

“That’s…,” began Giuseppe, blinking in surprise, but then he nodded slowly. He didn’t seem to be a fool at least.

As we heard the sound of the bar being lifted hastily on the other side of the door, Giuseppe, still on his horse, leaned toward my master and spoke to her in a loud whisper. “It gives me great pleasure to see you living so faithfully by God’s word. Courage and modesty are rarely seen together. I shall honor your request. But neither God nor I shall forget to whom we owe thanks.”

Slowly the door opened, and from behind it came torchlight so bright it nearly hurt our eyes. Giuseppe straightened, and my master watched him like a lamb hoping to be saved.

I couldn’t help but regard Giuseppe’s skill and poise as somewhat suspicious, but when he gave me a glance and a small nod, I couldn’t stop my tail from wagging.

Every rule had its exceptions.

“Now then,” said Giuseppe, smiling like a child entrusted with a secret as the door came fully open. The hour being what it was, the people lined up beyond the door were dressed in whatever they’d been wearing, many of them seemingly having woken just minutes earlier—some of the girls were still combing their hair.

From out of the gathered crowd, pushing his way out from between two men, came a well-dressed fellow holding a spear. He was probably on lookout duty, though he looked very young for it. From the redness in the corners of his eyes, he’d very clearly been sleeping until moments ago.

But his hair was curly and flyaway, and from the fluttering leather cloak over his shoulders, the pointed toes of his boots, and his confident stride, he had the feeling of a leader about him, too.

To show my respect I sat and put my front paws closely together, my chest thrust out, as I could tell he was doing his utmost to appear worthy of it. There was no questioning his desire to heal the town. But it was an extremely heavy burden.

I couldn’t imagine that this youngster had arrived in this position ready to shoulder it. Plague took the elderly first, after all.

“My name is Tory lon Kuskov Careca. I represent the Kuskov Disaster Council. In God’s name, we welcome you to our town.”

His voice was youthful. Giuseppe knew the town’s circumstances as well as we did and was probably thinking the same thing we were. He responded with a greeting more formal than he’d used with us.

“My apologies for remaining on my horse. We have received the letter the blessed town of Kuskov sent seeking the light of God’s holy candle. God has not abandoned you. Though my power is weak, God’s is great. Be at peace. Beginning today, yea in this very hour, God’s light will surely return to this town.”

His voice carried well. All assembled lent their ears to him, and after Giuseppe finished speaking, there was utter and complete silence.

Then, like a rising wave, the cheer was quiet at first but finished in a great roar, as though he had just delivered news of a long war finally at an end.

“You must be tired, Bishop. You and your companion should rest yourselves tonight…,” said the lengthily named Careca, approaching Giuseppe. As he did so, he seemed to finally notice. “Bishop, you look unwell…”

“Care for this one before me, if you would,” said Giuseppe, indicating behind him, whereupon Careca seemed to notice the mule for the first time.

His almost girlish features froze in dismay. “Someone! Help me treat him!” cried Careca, and the happily chattering crowd again fell silent as they finally realized why the bishop would be arriving in their town at such a late hour. Visitors who came knocking on their doors having narrowly escaped bandits in the night were not so very rare, after all.

Even my master and I had encountered such people while tending our flocks. The bishop was helped down from his horse by the many people who quickly rushed to his side, and he quietly explained the extent of his injuries.

Those who attended to the man on the mule seemed to have battlefield experience. No sooner had they seen his wounds than they began giving instructions to the women.

As for us, Giuseppe honored his promise and explained our presence as he said he would. Careca contented himself to give us only brief thanks.

Given that I’d fought so bravely and driven so much danger off, this was a bit unsatisfying, but Giuseppe would hardly forget the debt he owed us, and most importantly my master understood. My master patted gave my head a hearty rub. “Let’s try to stay out of the way,” she said, and we moved over to the side of the entrance to the town.

Given all this fuss, if my master were to tell the truth of how she came to the bishop’s rescue, no doubt her dream of becoming a seamstress would easily come true.

So it felt to me a bit of a waste for her not to take the credit, but at the same time I could not help but respect her honest modesty. I looked up at her, and she noticed my gaze.

“What’s the matter?”

I could not use human speech, and thus did not respond to her question. And anyway, I was my master’s servant and would never do something so distasteful as proclaiming her greatness myself.

I looked away from her and watched Giuseppe be led away, whereupon I felt a sudden weight on my head. When I looked, I saw that it was my master’s hand.

“I don’t suppose you’re waiting for a feast to be laid out to thank us, hmm?”

Ah, lamentations! I gave a quiet bark to voice my indignation. My master could occasionally be rather mean-spirited—or perhaps that was how I truly looked.

I felt wounded, and she drew me close in a sudden embrace.

Once Giuseppe was led away, there was no longer anyone near the gate. We seemed to have been utterly forgotten, which probably made my delicate master feel a bit lonely.

Her face was right by mine, so I licked it, and she giggled. “I was waiting for it a bit, too.”

My master can be surprisingly indulgent when it comes to food—but as they say, no fish are had from water too clean.

I licked my master’s cheek again and gave a short bark.